


Mindoir

by DarkAislinn



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAislinn/pseuds/DarkAislinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If she were to ever move on from her home, to stop reliving the nightmares that still haunted her sleep after nearly ten years, and to be normal then she had to talk about it, to explain, to get it off her chest. It wasn’t easy; in fact, in was downright painful, almost physically so. </p><p>Shepard was born a Colonist. She watched as her family was murdered before her eyes, as her home was lit up in flames. She’s never talked about it until now. She doesn’t want to but she knows that she has to if she is going to keep her Turian and maybe he can help her.</p><p>This was done for a Mass Effect Kink prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mindoir

She sat up, gasping for breath and looked around the room trying to calm her nerves and beating heart as she took in her surroundings.

Her fish tank cast an eerie blue and gold light throughout the room and glinted off her fish swimming around, oblivious to their owners’ distress. Her hamster, Honey, poked his head out, glaring at her as she woke him with her violent nightmare. She gave him an apologetic look, tossing the covers off of her body and placing her feet on the cold surface of her room aboard the Normandy.

She sat forward, elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands exhaling. It was times like this, she thought, that she had these memories, these terrifying dreams of her past. Unbidden and unasked for but they came to her as if she had begged God to remember.

Perhaps this was a way to punish her for her sins; she didn’t know and felt the instant cascade of chagrin at her thoughts. She shouldn’t think like that. God let things happen for a reason, no matter what it was or how much it sucked, it was for a reason and only through those times did people grow, learn and become stronger. Ashley had once asked her if she believed in God and she had responded, “You know the saying there is never an Atheist in a foxhole? Well I’ve been in a lot of foxholes.” She believed God was the one who had gotten her this far. It might not seem fair, but there it was.

 Whenever she was alone she remembered. She hated to be alone and this was why, though none of her crew knew this about her except for perhaps Liara or any other Asari she had ever let enter her mind. If Liara knew anything about this she had never said anything about it and the thought that she might know caused Shepard to frown.

Since becoming the Shadow Broker she had become more reserved. She no longer blurted out what she thought or spilled her innermost secrets without thoroughly considering her words beforehand. Perhaps she didn’t want to trouble Shepard or bring up past memories that haunted her. Despite what her reasons might be Shepard wanted to know if Liara knew and made a mental note to ask her next time she stopped by her office/room/lair.

A soft rapping at her door brought her from her thoughts and she turned, calling out to the unexpected visitor, casting a sleep deprived eye towards her clock. It was late; much too late for most, or any, of her crew to be awake at this hour. They needed their rest for this God forsaken war.

Garrus entered, his eyes looking over her fish with a small Turian smile before his eyes rested on her.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still be up. EDI was,” he searched for a word to describe his thoughts. “preoccupied, so it seems, with Joker.” She shook her head, her lips turning up into a small smile at the thought of those two.

She had been weary of EDI when she had first come aboard the Normandy SR-2 after she had been… what was the word, resurrected? She wasn’t sure what the proper term was since she had always told everyone that she had “nearly died” or had “gotten better”. It still boggled her mind that she had been clinically declared dead but was now, clearly, sitting in her bed looking at Garrus Vakarian; her savior for all intense and purposes.

“I was sleeping, but I got woken up by something and now I can’t remember what it was,” she lied. Even now, despite how much she trusted him, she felt that if he knew how weak she truly was he would turn her away without a backward look, instantly grimacing at the thought. It was stupid she knew. He loved her, _all of her_ , but a large part of her was still afraid. Weakness was not an option, especially during this war. If she broke or her crew began to see the cracks in her they would follow and the war would be lost.

 _“Not an option, not an option.”_ Mordin’s words coursed through her brain.

He gave her an undecipherable look, before clenching his mandibles close against his jaw. “Ah.” He didn’t believe her, but didn’t press the subject either.

“What’s up?” She tugged at her shirt subconsciously, pulling it down over her hip to try and cover the scars of all the different, nameless, _countless_ , battles she had survived or otherwise seen. His cobalt eyes, so bright against his blackened sockets and iron colored plates, stared at her, unwavering.

“I think I have calibrated enough for one day,” he finally relented. His large form stepped down, skipping the steps as is his legs were so long, towards her bed. He glanced at the empty, red stained glass on her coffee table before looking at her again, cocking a brow plate at her.

“I needed something to relax before bed,” she waved off his questioning gaze, leaning back against her pillow, drawing her legs back up only to extend them out in front of her crossing them at the ankles.

He made his way towards her before sitting, bringing a leg up and bending it at the knee, on her medium soft bed. He sighed, rubbing a tired three fingered hand over face before looking at her again. He looked absolutely exhausted. No doubt he was worried about Palaven and his family. She would be too if she had any family left, she thought ruefully. For a moment she wished that she had something else other than the Reapers to worry about before remembering Ash’s words.

_“If your family were alive then they’d be fighting the Reapers. At least this way, even if it isn’t any easier, you know they’re in a better place and have been there for a while. Just try to think of it that way, Skipper.”_

There were, admittedly, with this war, things that were worse than death, she kept telling herself. She believed – no, _knew_ , of course, that they were in a better place but she would give anything to hear her mother or father’s voice just once telling her that she needed to stop worrying.

“Shepard,” he started before pausing, shifting his position on the bed to face her. “you know that you can talk to me, right?” She swallowed reflexively, nervously. His eyes held a question in them, different from the one he voiced, and she felt guilty.

Never did she ever want him to question what she felt for him. He was one of the only things that was keeping her going, urging her forward and was always there when she felt herself falling during these desperate and nightmarish times. He was her absolute everything. He was her crew member, her friend and her lover.

“I know.”

“You were dreaming.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. On more than one occasion, when he had spent the night, she had woken up, sweating with a  cry in her throat; and he had turned to her, pulling her against his hard, angled body, attempting to soothe her even though he didn’t know what he was soothing away as she had never spoken about it. 

He’d tried to ask about it once in his Garrus way, but she had shut down on him. Her face had become an emotionless mask and her tone had taken on her “Commander” voice which brooked no discussion on the subject. Being the kind and patient man he was he had let it go, but the saddened look in his eye had betrayed his words.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” she said quietly. Why was it so hard for her to talk to him? She didn’t know and it angered her. It should be easy; they loved each other. But it wasn’t easy. It was terrifying for her. She just didn’t talk about herself. It wasn’t something she was used to.

He clenched his mandibles against his jaw and a muscle began twitching under his plates as he narrowed his eyes at her. “If you can’t talk to me, then what are we doing here Eliza?” He gestured with his hand between his body and hers. He looked away, taking a deep breath before turning back to her. “What’s the point of _this_ if it’s only a one way street? I can’t keep taking two steps forward only to take ten steps back. I just don’t know if I can keep doing this if you won’t talk to me.”

The thought that he was ready to end their relationship sent a cold quick shiver of panic through her. Groaning she buried her face in her hands, trying to swallow the hard lump in her throat and blinked back the stinging that pricked her eyes.

“If I talk about it then it means it was real, that it happened. But if I only have dreams of it then I can pretend it never happened, like watching a horror film then turning on the lights to reassure yourself that there is nothing there to hurt you or cast you into the fiery depths of hell.”

She lifted her head and brushed her bangs out of her eyes, tucking the soft bright strands behind her ear and looked past him, staring at a ship replica that was slightly tilted. He didn’t say anything but he shifted on the bed, going to sit next to her, sliding a finger underneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. Emerald met azure and inside that azure she saw only the love he felt for her, the pain of her hurt reflected back at her in his eyes, and the understanding that filling them to the brim.

If she were to ever move on from her home, to stop reliving the nightmares that still haunted her sleep after nearly ten years, and to be normal then she had to talk about it, to explain, to get it off her chest. It wasn’t easy; in fact, in was downright painful, almost physically so.

“You know I was born and raised on Mindoir,” she began, feeling his hand slide down her neck, past her shoulder and finally come to rest on her own, twining is fingers with hers. “Everyone knows what happened on Mindoir. It was attacked by Batarian salvers, pirates, mercenaries and whatever other kind of filthy Batarian they could find.  They said the attack was sudden but looking back now I doubt it. They were angry at the Council and Humans. I was sixteen so I didn’t pay attention to the news half as well as I should have. I was more concerned with my friends, school and getting a boyfriend.” She gave a bitter laugh, swallowing and shaking her head.

The boy she had liked, and had at one point fantasized about marrying and starting a family with, had faded from her mind over time. Now she couldn’t even remember the shape of his face or the color of his eyes or hell, even his name. But at the time he had been important and she felt guilty that she couldn’t remember. He was now just another faceless dead being.

Garrus didn’t say anything. He just sat there, facing her, his warm hand pressed against hers with the blue and gold of the fish tank bouncing off of him and watched her silently, urging her to continue. She took a deep, shuddering breath and blinked back the tears the threatened to spill from her eyes.

“We never thought that Mindoir would be attacked. We were a small colony. We didn’t grow or mine anything useful. We just lived. In happened so fast. One minute I was out back, playing with our dog, then the next my father comes bursting through the back door yelling at me, grabbing my arm and dragging me back into the house.

“He grabbed his gun, something all families have on colony worlds, and told me to wait right there. “Don’t move a muscle” he had said as he went tearing through the house with a duffle bag. He was stuffing clothes, food and ammo into it. That’s when I heard the first gunshot and the screaming. I wanted to move, to look out the window to see what was going on, but I didn’t dare disobey an order from him.

“My mom came running from the back of the house and stood in front of me, saying something but I couldn’t really understand what she was saying. I was still trying to process what was going on and the only thought I had was, “What about Sam? What if Sam got hurt?””. Garrus looked at her questioningly and she smiled softly, biting her lip to try and quell her tears. “Sam was our dog. He was my best friend. I tried asking her about him, but she just shook her head, grabbed my face by both her hands and looked me in the eye saying, “You can’t worry about him. We have to get out of here. _You_ have to get out of here.”

“I remember hearing the front door splinter with the force of a Batarian kicking it open and hearing my mother scream, jerking me behind her and begging the Batarian to leave me alone, that I was just a child. He sneered at her and laughing, grabbing us both and tried to pull us through the door but his head exploded and his body fell down, tumbling down the stone steps as the bright red blood, dripping from the gaping mass that was once his face.

“I think I screamed but I can’t be sure. I felt the warmth of his brains and blood splatter on my face and body when I noticed that my dad was the one who shot him. He yelled something at me and my mom but everything sounded so distant and I braved a look outside. All I remember seeing was death. That was first time that I had ever smelled burnt flesh and I vomited, watching, as if it was happening in slow motion, as the Batarians brought out screaming people and shot them, lit them on fire and raped women in the streets.”

She paused, vaguely aware that she was crying but it was barely registering. She hadn’t willingly gone back to that place in a long time and it made her feel sick to her stomach. She could feel the bile rising in her throat and she choked it back down. She had to continue, she’d come this far. As much as she wanted to stop, the words poured over her lips like lava flowing down a freshly erupted volcano and she felt, briefly, that speaking was not of her own accord.

“Somewhere I heard Sam barking, my dad was yelling and my mom was screaming about the dead Batarian that was lying headless on the steps but it wasn’t until my dad grabbed my arm and yanked me around to look at him that I focused on what he was saying.

“I didn’t want to listen to him. He was thrusting the bag into my arms, pressing the pistol that was still warm into my hands and telling me to run, run as fast as I could and never turn around. Under no circumstances was I to stop until someone found me. He said that if anyone tried to touch me to aim the gun and shoot, make sure it’s between the eyes he said.

“I was sixteen. I’d never used a gun before. I tried telling him that I couldn’t do it, but he gripped my shoulders, shook me and forced me to look into his eyes. I’ll never forget what he said. He told me,” she swallowed, her eyes sliding shut, imagining his face in front of hers and his dark brown eyes staring at her, blazing with a fire she’d never seen before. “He told me, “You aim that gun, Eliza Shepard, and pull the damn trigger and make sure he’s fucking dead before you move. It’s either him or you and you better damn well be the one left standing.”

“Then he was shoving me out the front door as my mom sobbed, saying his name over and over again. I turned to her, ignoring my father, and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her close. It was the last time I ever touched her actually. She hugged me back, hard, and cried into my shoulder telling me to be safe before my dad, Brian was his name, jerked me to hum in a short, rough hug and pushed me out the door.

“I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I’ve never run so fast in my life but when I heard my mother’s high pitched scream I turned and watched as two Batarians ran into my house, what was my house, and grabbed them. One tangled his hands in my mom’s hair and dragged her out into the street with all the other people I knew and cared about. He pushed her to her knees. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was too loud, but she was screaming, her head was shaking and the Batarian slapped her.

“I remember watching as she spit out blood, but she never faltered. Hannah Shepard never faltered. I heard a gunshot ring out and saw my father’s lifeless body hit the ground, dirt billowing up around him and the Batarian leaned back, his mouth open like he was laughing. I tried to close my eyes shut against it, but I couldn’t move.

“My hands were freezing, probably from fear, and my teeth were chattering despite the fact that normally it would have been a warm, breezy day. I wanted to make sure that my mother would be alright even-even though I knew that she wouldn’t. There was no escaping once they had their calloused hands on you.

“I watched, hidden in the bushes, as my best friend was raped, in front of her father before they killed him, branded and thrown into a large metal cage, naked, bleeding and crying. I heard my mother scream and as much as I didn’t want to I looked. I looked at her. I watched, the pistol in my hand shaking, as they beat her with the butt of their rifles, sneering down at her, saying something that I failed to understand or hear. It gets confusing.”

She pulled her hand away from his and covered her face, crying in earnest, her shoulders jerking with every sob that wracked her thin frame. She pulled her legs up underneath herself, rocking as if it would bring some comfort and Garrus closed his eyes against his own tears, looking away from her. He could barely contain the anger he felt, feeling Archangel touch the depths of the back of his mind reaching out to take away the pain he felt listening to her, but he shook him away.

 She took a deep breath, sniffing and pulled her head from her hands to wipe at her nose.

It kept coming. All the memories, the pain, the hurt; the suffering and helplessness she felt then were resurfacing and taking a hold of her. There was nothing she could do to stop the words that were spilling from her lips now. Once it started, it was like an avalanche on a deserted mountain and nothing could stand in its way.

“I don’t know remember the order of events as they occurred, it happened too fast. I just remember watching as my mother saw my dead father and her face contorted into pure rage and her mouth was moving, saying something. She tried to fight, but they overpowered her. The one Batarian grabbed her hair, forcing her head back while the other one stuffed something into her before speaking to her, pressing the gun against her head and pulled the trigger.

“After that I-I don’t really know what happened. I know I ran, my dad’s words echoing in my head. I ran until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or feel anything anymore. I just fell to the ground panting and wishing that I was dead. I was caked in blood, dirt and sweat.

“Next thing I know there were Alliance soldiers everywhere, shooting anything that was tall enough and not human, but they failed. Their forces got pushed back and they had to watch as my people, my neighbors, friends and everyone else in between were slaughtered, branded and taken as slaves.

“One of the last things I remembering seeing is what little was left of the colony or those who were able to escape being pushed onto evac shuttles as my home was burning. I can still smell the smoke. It was so high or maybe it just seemed that way at the time.

“An officer was trying to talk to me, but I didn’t hear him. I saw my dog, Sam, and I called out to him. He paused and turned his head toward the sound, his ears perked up at the familiar voice. I ignored the man who was trying to get me onto a damn shuttle, calling out Sam’s name and took off towards him.

“I just remember hugging him, thinking how his fur felt dirty, but I didn’t care. I ran my hands over his body, crying and not even really being able to see him through my tears but once I knew he was okay I felt relieved. He was the only one that I loved who had survived. He found his way to me and I convinced the officers that he had to come with me. I think I threatened them saying that I wouldn’t leave unless he could come.

“We were taken to some shelter and I looked for people I might know, but no one I knew survived. Maybe they were taken as slaves, I don’t know honestly. All I know is that I want the pain to stop,” she sobbed, leaning back against her pillows and wrapped her arms around her torso.

She felt Garrus pull her against him, heard the soft rumble in his chest and soft ministrations that his hands were doing over her back. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him and buried her face against his cowl.

He pulled back, cupping her face and locked eyes with her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, gingerly brushing her hair away from her face and leaned his head down to press his leathery lips against hers. “I hate that you went through that. It kills me to see you hurting.” He slid his hand into her silky strands and kissed each of cheeks, then the dark circles under her eyes and finally her eyelids. Despite what doctors might say, he kissed away her salty tears that continued to leak from her eyes.

 “Garrus I-” He pressed his lips against hers again, silencing anything she might say and held her close. Her mouth opened under his, her lips soft and moist and he drank in her sorrow, breathing in her pain and buried it deep within himself for her sake and saving it for whenever the need may arise that they needed Archangel again.

Carefully he pulled at the band that tied her hair back, letting it fall in wavy tumbles around her shoulders and breathed in the scent. She had once said it was lavender and vanilla, but whatever it was it was truly her. He would have recognized that smell mixed with her natural scent anywhere and when he had caught a whiff of it on Omega as she stood in front of him, her arms thrown out asking if it was really him he had known, without a doubt, that it was her and wanted nothing more than to crush her against his body, run his hands over her bare skin and rememorize every line, contour, and soft ripple of her against his like they had shared before the Normandy was destroyed.

“I love you more than anything,” he murmured, tilting her head back and nipping at the skin near the hollow of her throat, eliciting a gasp from her.

Using his free hand he pulled on her shirt, tugging it up and over her head before tossing it to the side. He leaned back just far enough so that her nimble fingers could undo the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders. As her parted lips found their way to the sensitive spot just beneath his mandibles he leaned her back onto the bed, gripping her curved hip in his one hand and released a quiet moan.

He flicked his tongue against her collar bone and tossed her head back against the pillow, giving him full access to her throat. Softly he ran his finger from her shoulder, over the swell of a breast, down her flat stomach to her hip and back, sliding his tongue against hers when her mouth opened under his.

She sighed beneath him, her body arching slightly when he pressed his mouth to just above her breast, wrapping her long, slender fingers around his fringe. Her nipple was a pink, hardened nub begging him to touch it.

When his tongue connected with the rosy bud she whimpered, her stomach muscles clenching underneath his hands, and his name escaped her lips in a husky, breathy whisper meant only for him. He drew patterns over abdomen, relishing how her muscles quivered from his touch,  and turned his attention to her other slightly, larger breast.

In the dim light he could see the flushed color of her skin, feeling a swell of pride, and pressed soft, slow kisses from her sternum down her body, running his hands up the sides of her torso. He glanced up at her and found her eyes closed, her small pink tongue darting out to lick her lips.

He traced the outline of her hips with his tongue, bringing his hands down to knead the flesh of her thighs, and breathed in the sweet scent of her arousal. She moaned, twisting a hand into sheets, breathing heavily and watched him as he peeled away her flimsy underwear and pressed his lips against her pubic bone.

He gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to him, exhaling over her glistening folds, turning his head to kiss her thigh, then the other before parting her lips and carefully ran his tongue in a circle around her clitoris, bringing a strangled cry from deep within her throat.

Steadily, he laved at the rigid pink nub, sliding a teasing finger over her folds, pressing against her hot center until she was crying out, begging him. He pushed one of thick fingers deep inside of her, closing his eyes against how tight and warm she was, and searched for the slightly raised ridge that would bring her over the edge.

Her thighs were shaking and she was moaning, her speech broken and guttural. He continued to rub her, lick her and stroke her until he felt her muscles clench around his finger, heard the pause in her breathing, and then the room was filled with her lusty cries of pleasure, her pussy spasming around him and he drank in all of her, not stopping until she begged him to.

“Garrus,” she whispered. Gently she tugged at his fringe and he moved up, letting her bring his head down to her, kissing her, running his tongue along her own soft one. He felt her hands on the waistband of his pants, undoing them and he pulled away, jerking them off before throwing them somewhere to the side.

She spread her legs, her flushed body glimmering in the dim light and he’d never thought she could be more beautiful. He moved between her soft thighs, lacing his fingers through hers, bringing her hands up above her head.

She lifted her hips towards his, rubbing herself against his throbbing cock and when he entered her; he buried his face in neck, letting out a deep rumbling moan that echoed off the walls and pulled his hand away to grip at her hip tightly, pausing.

Her free hand caressed the scarred side of his face, her lips against his other cheek whispering in his ear as her body became, once again, accustomed to his thick, hard length inside of her. He looked at her, sliding out before sliding back in, and her green eyes glittered in the soft light, tears brimming on the edges. “I love you,” she whispered, blinking against the liquid.

He bent his head, keeping his slow pace, and captured her lips in his. She pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, running her hands over his face and cowl moaning every time he hit the right spot.

His finger found its way to her clitoris and stroked it, squeezing his eyes shut every time her muscles clenched around him, willing himself to hold on, and groaned, saying her name.  Her back arched up, her chest pressed against his, her breath hot on his neck with his name tumbling from her lips.

“Oh,” she whimpered, breathless, as her fingers grasped and tangled in with the sheets, her thighs tightening around him as he thrust into her, over and over, the large head on his cock rubbing against her spot and she felt the pressure building in her stomach, felt the heat slither through her body.

He leant his head down; using is tongue to graze her nipple, ignoring the maddening pulse of his cock buried deep within her, continuing to stroke her clitoris. “Garrus,” she cried, twisting her head to the left, exposing her neck to him. He concentrated on the pulsing vein at the hollow of her throat, pushing down the urge to clamp his mouth on the scar he’d left there.

He knew she was close. Her body was flushed red, her breath was loud and choppy and her pussy was wet, warm and constricting. Her pussy clamped down around him hard, harder than ever before, and he grunted, trying to keep from spilling inside of her too soon.

“I’m-I’m,” she swallowed, licking her dry lips as her hands fumbled around to grab his fringe, bringing his head down to press his lips against her throat. “Garrus, please.”

He felt his willpower shatter into a million tiny pieces as he sunk his teeth into her throat, her blood spilling over his tongue. Her blunt teeth bit into is skin as her orgasm slammed into her, her body shaking and convulsing around him, milking his cock until he exploded inside of her, their moans reverberating off the walls.

Together they felt the entire galaxy exploding inside of them like a ten thousand suns reaching supernova, their essences twined, danced and became one. There was only one heart-beat, one thought, and it left them lying in a sweating heap on the bed, panting.

As the fires died, bathing them in simmering embers of their love making, they caressed each other, whispering things only lovers would say.

He lay on his back with her leg draped over his waist, her arm slung over his chest and he ran his fingers through her hair, listening as her breathing finally evened out.

“Garrus,” she said, tilting her head back to look at him.

“Mm?”

“Thank you for being here tonight. I’ve never talked about Mindoir before.” Lightly she ran her fingers over his chest, idly tracing the patterns of his plates.

“You can’t hold it in. It can break you and I saw what it was doing to you. I can’t stand seeing you hurt.” He met her eyes, tenderly, tucking her hair behind her small ears. “I just-I know how it feels to go through something and not talk about it or face it. It can do strange these to people.” Sidonis flashed into his mind, the images of his dead team lying there dead. “I know that you think you could have saved your family on Mindoir, but it wasn’t your fault. You can’t save everyone Eliza.”

She gave him long look, her hand pressing against the scared side of his face, and her eyes filled with understanding. Her mouth turned up at the corners. “Who helped you to believe that?”

“Just a certain hard-headed Commander who refused to let a guy like me turn into his worst nightmare.”

“Sounds like a smart person. I’ll think I’ll take their advice.” His mandibles twitched in amusement, his arm tightening around her back and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

“You do that. I won’t let you fall.”

She sighed and laid her back down against his hard chest and let sleep wash over her believing for the first time that her nightmares would end.  

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a prompt that I saw on the Mass Effect Kink page on Livejournal last night and as soon as i saw it I couldn't help myself. It just sounded like something that I could do so I pumped most of it out last night and finished it today! I hope that you enjoy it! For those curious the prompt was as follows: 
> 
> Bear with me as this could take a few moments. 
> 
> First off, I would LOVE to see a story (it doesn't have to be a chapter story, a one-shot will do nicely) in which Shepard has nightmares about Mindoir during the events of ME3. 
> 
> Surely she has got to have some issues from that horrible time in her life. I mean, she watches (quote Wiki) as her family and friends are killed and she's the lone survivor. She had to have seen other stuff happen as well and if it had been anyone else it would have put her in the loony bin. 
> 
> Preferably I want to see Shepard having a nightmare, wake up and Garrus comes to the rescue. How you do it is entirely up to you. 
> 
> I want to see Garrus get frustrated that she doesn't want to talk about it. Obviously, if they are together, it would bother him that she doesn't speak about her problems. He loves her. 
> 
> Given who Shepard is, it should be a struggle for her to talk about it but she has to. 
> 
> I'd like to see some blood and gore as she would have witnessed it. It *HAS* to have happy ending. 
> 
> Now for the bonuses! YAY! I am so excited and hoping that someone will pick this up! :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D
> 
> Bonus:  
> Somewhere in the story Shepard gives thoughts to her belief in God (only because it was never elaborated on in ME1 if you chose the option "I do too" when Ashely asks Shepard about it).  
> Must quote Mordin's "Not an option, not an option".  
> Questions how much Liara knows about her past given the mind-melds in ME1 to find Ilos.  
> *NEVER* romanced anyone but Garrus (this can be brought up at any point in the story).
> 
> Double Bonus Points:  
> Shepard is default as in red hair, green eyes and freckles. (There is just something about red-haired Shepard that I love!)  
> Shepard had a dog named Sam and for the sake of my adoration of animals he *MUST NOT* get hurt during the attacks on Mindoir.  
> Stick to Hannah Shepard for the mother. Use Brian as the father.  
> Ends with Garrus and Shepard making love. Must be explicit. (I love ME porn, what can I say?)


End file.
